I was exhausted. My body ached, and my mind was obscured by a fibromyalgia-induced fog. I felt guilty. My heart was there, but I thought I was not in the right space to make the offering.
The guilt sprang from a place of idealism and an expectation that every offering, ritual, and spell must be perfect for it to be worthy of acceptance and effect. It is the trauma of religious conditioning. Growing up in an imminent rapture cult, there were so many barriers to approaching a god who supposedly called people to come as you are. My prayers and offerings needed screening to ensure they were good enough and worthy enough for their god.
I sat with this for some time, considering its implications and effect on my practice. It was baggage that I no longer needed to carry. Witchcraft isn't perfect and clean. I went back out and offered the following prayer:
I offer this, as I am. Imperfect in practice and understanding. Learning and unlearning. Better on some days than others. But every day, here I am. May this offering be pleasing to You. Hail Hekate.
The worry of offering my gifts incorrectly left me. My intention was right. My spirit was right. In that moment, I felt clearly that my gifts were accepted.